Influenza.

The word was getting around everywhere, and Steven was worried. He had lived with his girlfriend Gladice, and her pig scuffles, for the last three years. The pig didn’t bother him, it just sat there – Starring and snorting and sleeping. Gladice adored her pig. Every now and then she would take it for a walk out on the pier. And even though Steven didn’t agree that scuffles was a proper house-hold pet, he tolerated their living arrangements because he was madly in love with Gladice.

“Babe, what do want to eat tonight?” Gladice called out from the kitchen. Steven sat watching the 6 o’clock daily news.

“Not pork,” Steven responded, at which scuffles let out a faint yelp and ran to Gladice.

“Oh no, honey. You’ve scared scuffles.”

“Let’s not eat him.” Scuffles let out another faint yelp. “Have you heard of this swine flu virus?”

“Yeah, everyone at work is talking about it. We’re not allowed to come in if we get any similar symptoms. It’s a pandemic.” Steven, keeping his cool, stared at the TV, as Scuffles ran across the room in front of him, and wonder what if?

For the next couple of weeks, news of the swine flu were everywhere, and the fact that there was a pig living in his home made Steven a bit nervous.

“Two more people died today because of the H1N1 virus.”

“The deaths of another 19 children and teenagers from the new H1N1 virus were reported in the past week around the country.”

“Those infections likely worsened the illness and contributed to the deaths, six of which occurred in previously healthy people with no known medical conditions.”

“More than 1,100 people worldwide have died from swine flu since it emerged in Mexico and the U.S. in April”

The news was all around him. Conversations, newspapers, TV commercials; Steven decided he had enough. He ran home from work, slammed the door behind him, threw his jacket on the coat hanger, and yelled out, “Gladice, I’m leaving!”

“You’re seriously going to walk out of me because of my pig?” Gladice shouted from the front porch, still wearing pajamas under her night robe and slippers. It was cold out, fresh snow had fallen in the early morning. Steven was packing suitcases into the back of his truck.

“H1N1, baby. It’s everywhere.”

“Wait a minute.” Gladice walked down the steps to the drive way, standing just a few feet away from Steven, and asked, “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Of course I do. It’s the pig!”

“How can a relationship be ruined over a pig?”

“Get rid of it!”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to get sick and die, Gladice? Do you want to get sick and die.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. No one is dying.”

“Have you not watched the news lately? I’m leaving.” Steve climbed into his truck, turned to look at Gladice one last time, and drove off.

“But wait!” Gladice called out, then said to herself, “The swine flu doesn’t come from pigs… Douche.”

Lend a Hand.

As children, Adam and Philip didn’t mind social standards. Adam simply looked upon Philip as a fellow who shared the same interests, who he learned to trust, and thought of as a best friend. The boys would be off to the same university in the fall. Philip had worked his butt off during high school to maintain his 4.3 GPA, and even more in his attempt to receive as much scholarships as possible. On the contrary, Adam’s family was big money. He had his tuition fully covered since birth. Philip’s graduation celebration was a backyard barbeque. Adam’s was, to say the least, an extravaganza. The boys, dressed in their best attire, one arm over the other, held their diplomas high in the air, smiling in pride of their achievements.

Adam and Philip met again their senior year at the university; Adam’s pockets still burning with money, Philip’s still empty.

“Philip! How’ve you been?” Adam smiled, as he shook Philip’s hand, pulling him in for a hug. The boys, ecstatic to be reunited, carried on with their conversation.

“I’ve been good. Ready to graduate! I’ve already got a job lined up at the New York Post,” Philip explained.

“Journalism? Not bad.” Adam’s eyes stared at the ground, hands in his pockets, caressing the bunch of bills he was carrying. “Yeah, I’m going to Law School next year. Then I’ll be working at my dad’s firm. Family business, you know.” Adam chuckled.

“I see. You’re still living your father’s dreams.”

“They’re mine as well,” Adam lied.

“I remember differently.”

“Your memory is failing you.”

“You never wanted to be tied down because of the money.”

“Money,” Adam pondered. “Ha, this money is the highlight of my life. It’s a shame you don’t have any, really. Here, I’ll lend you a hand.” Adam took out a five dollar bill and held it out for Philip to take. “It’ll buy your meals for half a day.” Adam laughed.

“It’s sad that you have to depend on your daddy’s money. There’ll be a day when all you have will be worth nothing.” Philip snatched the bill from Adam’s hand. “I’ll have everything.”

Seven years later, Adam was working at his father’s law firm. On this particular day, he sat right across from his father. “What do you mean the money is gone?” Adam asked.

“I mean it’s gone,” his father told him. “The firm is shutting down. We’ve lost everything.” Adam felt like he had finally hit rock bottom. All this time his future was set. Now, he lost it all.

Seven years later, Philip had written and published a bestseller. On this particular day, he sat across a Hollywood director who had taken interest in making a film out of Philip’s novel. Philip felt that all his struggles were finally paying off. The money was only a small increment of a dream come true.

Later that month, Adam searched his pockets, scrabbling for enough change to buy a tall cappuccino at Starbucks. After collecting his drink, he turned around, and stopped in his tracks.

“Philip,” Adam said. Philip, about to order his drink, turned to look at Adam.

“Adam,” Philip replied. “How’s the high life?”

“The firm shut down. How’s the low life?”

“Bestseller. Hollywood.”

“I see now money is the highlight of your life.”

“Not at all. I’d be happy to lend you a hand.” Philip pulled out the same five dollar bill Adam gave him seven years ago. “It’ll buy your meals, for about, half a day?”

End of the World Moments.

We all have our end of the world moments. I've been told that a lot. When we're young anything can feel like the end of the world. I remember, I was playing in the bathtub with a barbie doll. She had a pink earring. It was my favorite of her accessories. Next thing I know I see it floating into the drain when it was time to get out. That was one of my end of the world moments. You see, when you're young anything can feel like the end of the world. But you learn that every ounce of horrible news is followed by what it remotely better. I found the earring floating back to me the next time I let water run out the faucet. As one grows older, however, those little moments are incomparable to what's ahead. 

Go Green!

"Go green, ad take the green out of your pocket."

I've been thinking about the issue of global warming for a while now. All the while, I've been wondering about what contributes to the issues, and what it means to go green. I want to know what I could do to help out. I have never been the environmentalist type of person, although growing up I would always be saying that i wanted a house that runs off the sun, solar power. That helps out, right? Anyways, I don't recycle. I run up the water bill with my thirty minute showers. I take plastic instead of paper. And at the end of the day I think, "Why is the weather so bipolar?!" I know that a lot of us don't really think about going through our daily routines but it wouldn't hurt to make a difference. We all want to change the world, why not start with saving the planet? In class today, one of my classmates expressed his opinion on the matter, saying that it cost to go green. and living in a world that is going through a huge economic crisis, spending money is not such a good idea. How else will we save the planet? Would it be better to live a poverty driven Eco-friendly life? Or work on getting everybody out of poverty, resulting in a short period of earth's remaining lifetime?

"Gore For Sale"

This is an essay I wrote for class. I had less than an hour to write it (in class). The article I had to read came out of my textbook, and basically the assignment was to give his claim and post my argument. So, Enjoy! =)

In the article "Gore For Sale," by Evan Gahr, Gahr looks into the affect that violent video games have on the people who play them. He begins with a descriptive scene of an event that might resemble the Littleton, Colorado shooting and explains that what he described was a video game and that lots of video games exploit violence in them. Gahr makes a point of saying that the companies selling these games indirectly send out a message that violence is alright through their slogans. Garh suggests that the reason why violent video games are still on the market is because of entrepreneurship, "Violent computer games are a small but influencial part of the $6.2 billion video and computer game market" (paragraph 8). However, the question still remains, what the effects of violent video games are and what can be done about? Gahr says that video game violence is not new and a rating system was adopted but not enforced by neither the industry, stores, or parents. Violence is argued to come from social injustice, such as "urban conditions, poverty, and the ready availability of guns" (paragraph 16). The industry also tied in the demand to ban violent videos games to the elimination of their first admendment. Gahr claims otherwise in saying that in the ban of these games free speech will remain as well as safety.

Thinking about my younger cousins and nephews, being exposed to violence through video games is frightening, but at the same time liberating that they're not out in the streets, being exposed to it because they are a part of it. I think that for most kids the fact that the video games are advocating violence isn't what gets them to play them. I don't believe someone would say I want to shoot things, I want to see the blood, etc. Games are played for an objective. If shooting things is the objective of the game, that's what they will do. Just like the objective of "Monopoly" is to own more properties and have more money, they play for the fun of getting their objective done.

However, social injustice cannot be a valid reason for violence either. Any person of any race, age, and gender can pick up a gun and shoot someone. The availibity of guns cannot be an issue either because having a gun in your hand is not an excuse to use it. The real issue should be the individuals themselves. If you profile anyone who planned a school shooting, there are always simmilar factors involved. Whatever the reason is, whether it be they need anger management or are being bullied, the issue of violence should not be blamed on video games or social injustice. People just look for the excuse to blame those factors for violence instead of looking at the bigger picture. Violent video games is exposure of violence but is it really the cause?

Topics.

I haven't written in a while because I have a lot of topics I want to write about and am indecisive. BUT just a little preview into the topics I will be writing about in the future...

1. American Dream
2. Celebrity Immunity
3. Domestic Violence
4. Bullying (Peer Pressure follow-up)
5. Melting Pot
6. Impact of Fashion

Any more suggestions, please feel free to leave a comment!

Peer Pressure

Needs to stop!!

I mean, we learn about it in what? Elementary school? "Just say no!" I'm sure most of us remember that slogan. But seriously, say no all you want, it won't stop the peer pressure at all. There will always, always, always be people saying "Come on, try it." or "You'll feel so much better if you do this." or even "You're fucking stupid cause you wouldn't do it."

WELL...
Alcohol, drugs, sex, or anything else, will not make you feel better, will not make you be smarter. But it is YOUR CHOICE.

What is Peer Pressure? Basically its when the people around you are forcing you to do something you don't want to do. OR persuading you, is more like it. The way they phrase their questions and statements can be a factor in peer pressure. The second part would be continuing to try and persuade you even after you said no the first time. This can be really hard to handle.

Hypothetical Story: So get this, you're at a show with lets say your sister, her friends, your friends, and a hundred other strangers, all piling in smoke into their lungs and alcohol into their stomachs. You, don't drink or smoke. The band is playing some beautiful tunes, everyone is having a blast in the crowded, musty, dance area. Not caring how many strangers they bump into, a shows a show. Lighten up, have some fun. You told your parents you'd be home by eleven, its ten thirty. Ooh but the music sounds so good, you're vibing, you're dancing, you're enjoying yourself. But you say no, it's time to get home. You go grab your sister and she says, "The band I want to see hasn't even played yet. Don't call them." You go ask a friend for a ride home, "Chill, the show just started. Here, have a drink." Another one of a friend snags a cigarette from some guy near them and passes the puff around, "Here, try it, you'll feel relaxed." So now, you're disobeying your parents, you're a party killer, your friends are a little high, a little buzz. Ooh and your sister, no where to be found. Guess she got lost in the crowd.

Personally, I would hate having to disobey my parents. &Hate it even more if I was disobeying them while being high and drunk. I'd kill the party and get everyone upset just to be at home on time. The pressureeeeeeeeeee is going to take over but sometimes you have to be strong enough not to let it. It shouldn't be "Just say no!" it should be "Say no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no" Until you scream your head off and they BACK OFF. It might bring down your esteem when they say "You're being a little bitch" but turn it around, "Who's being a bitch?" I don't want to drink, I don't want to smoke. &I definitely don't want to be called nasty names for my beliefs.

Story of the day. Ciao!

"I can change the world, I'm Mexican!"

"I can change the world, I'm Mexican!"

Have you ever heard of "The Bronze Screen?" It's a documentary; 100 years of the Latino image in Hollywood. &I saw this... 2nd semester in college, English 124. How I got this far in english class, I don't know. But that's a whole other story ;)

Anyways, watching this film was... inspiring? Well, of course. Here I am, a Mexican-American teen trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life... I'm a writer. That's what I do best. That's why I take the higher English classes my freshman year while my friends are a few class behind. I'm a writer. That's why I spent the last four years of my life writing genius words with no meaning. Seven years, if you count the novel I wrote when I was 12. That I still haven't finished re-writing. I'm a writer. That is why I can write essay after essay for class and not get tired of it. I just get tired of that A, followed by the comment "You write well." I'm a writer and I know I'm good at it. But could there possibly be more. Well, there has to be. I'm Mexican.

I'm a singer. I've been singing for as long as I can remember. What I remember is going crazy singing Selena's "Amor Prohibido" with my cousins. I'm a singer. That's why I know every Selena, Beyonce, Ximena Sariñana, &Juan Gabriel song there is. &Why I choose to listen to music only if its singable. I'm a singer. That is why I drink tea every night, and freak out when I feel a soar throat emerging. I'm a singer. I go to sleep wishing I could sing that late at night. I wake up to a beautiful morning singing "Una Mañana." I sing when I'm happy. I sing when I'm upset. I sing when I'm angry. I sing when I'm bored. I sing when I'm excited. I sing when I'm doing chores. I'm a singer. That's why when I sing I feel like I'm on top of the world. Like there's a realese of everything that build up inside of me. I guess that I'm the only one that sees it in me, because when I sing its not about how good I am, or if I hit the note, or if I do vibrato too much or not at all. But that's all I hear. "So, you want to be a singer? Work on this this and this, and maybe you'll get hired." Haha, righttt. There's something more, right? There has to be. I'm Mexican.

I try to be an actress. I've been in two musicals within the last year. Three in my life, if you count James&the Giant Peach when I was ten. But I have never even considered the idea of being an actress until my Junior year in high school. I thought, just maybe I could do acting. I mean, I can sing right? So I auditioned for the school play "Little Shop of Horrors." I got callbacks, no part. I auditioned half a year later for "Godspell" where everyone got a part! Then half of year after that I auditioned for "Grease" and got lead, as Roger. I figured if I could pull off a guy role I must be an adequate actress. Still not as much self fullfilment as singing. And not nearly as genius as my writing. But there is always more, because I am Mexican.

I am Mexican. I have a thousand tios and tias and cousins and neices and nephews. I know what a good tamale tastes like because I eat a thousand every year at christmas, and for months afterward. I am American. I know my U.S. history and am obsessed with owning the most modern technology. I drink Coca Cola, &Eat cheeseburgers and fries and never get tired of the grease. I am Mexican-American. Sometimes I talk too fast and stumble over my words in English. Sometimes I don't pronounce words right in Spanish. Pero veras que todo se aprende.

I am Mexican-American. A minority... or um... MAJORITY. You would think that could make all the difference. I am not going to change my name to fit in. Or the color of my hair. I shouldn't have to. We're in the 21st century. Something has got to change. And I'd probably get further with my dreams if I fled the country in search for the perfect opportunity. But truth is, I CAN change the world. I want to change the world. I need to change the world. Because I am Mexican-American.

Family Quilt

I always told myself that it took six months to get over something. And for most of my teenager years that was evidently true. If a boy had broken my heart, six months later I wouldn't be thinking about him. If a friend had hurt me, six months later I wouldn't remember why. I don't know why but six months is the period of time I need before I can say, "Its in the past." But here is one thing that won't take me six months to forget. Neither will six months be long enough to recover.

I guess that with time changing all the time, its so hard not to remember the past, and want to relive it. That's another thing I tell myself all the time, don't be living the in past because the future will be so much better. I even wrote it in one of my songs, "No se vale vivir la vida recordando el ayer." And as far as I know, from the time I wrote it til now its developed a whole different meaning to me. But I'm going to let my guard down for a while and think about the past, because this one thing, I wont have in my future.

The guy in the picture, standing right next to my nana, is my cousin, Jose Rafael Ojeda. Better known as "Rafa" to the family. The day was our Family Reunion 2008, the 15th anniversary. As usual, everyone was sitting on camping chairs in one big circle. Traditionally, we start off introducing everyone new, friends of the family, of family who is attending the reunion for the first time. Then there's always the announcements, the games, the talent show, the awards for oldest and youngest, and so on. This year we had started a new tradition, the family quilt, where every family made something to represent their family, and it was all sewed together into one big quilt. To determine who was keeping the quilt we raffled it off. And I'm sure everyone remembers who got to choose the winning name.
I'm not sure of the exact words he had told my grandma, but it was something along the lines of, "Nana, usted se lo va ganar." Haha, and she did. Which brought up a lot of doubts, he says that and she wins? How does that happen, right? Well, fair and square.

The reunion was held in Pio Pico last year. And boy, do I have so many memories of that place! It seems like every month we're there, and not just us Hernandez, but everyone! Rafa, he was always there. There was always a point in the day when the kids and me got hungry, got thirsty, or just wanted to munch! So off we go to the county store, and almost always Rafa would come walking after us. And as if he had the money, he always offered to pay if we let him come, haha. I remember this one time, he was trying to work the hot dog machine. Like where are the buns? How do I grab the sausage? Hey, ale, don't grab a monster cause they're bad for you! Man, I'm hungry. &Whether I was there or not when this happened, I can imagine. He gulped down his hot dog before he was out of the store, but still managed to pay for it by putting his little plate on the counter.

I remember this one time, me and lucia were spending a week with Rafa. Yes, one full week with just Rafa. My mom was in Puerto Rico, and my brother and my dad were in a robotics competition in Atlanta. Well, we still had school, so they left Rafa in charge of us. Now, the school bus picked us up at 7:50am, if we left at 7:40 it would take us five minutes to get there, and five minutes to catch our breath. That's what my daddy had told him anyway. We missed the bus, btw. Me and Luz didn't mind at all. We were actually happy we missed it. Yay! No school! Right? ...Wrong. Homeboy grabbed his keys and drove us all the way to La Jolla for school. He didn't have to really, he was just risking a ticket because he didn't have his license. I can remember exactly what he said, "Your dad said the bus gets there at 7:50 and if you left at 7:40 you'd make it and you guys were there at 7:42, stupid bus driver! He left too early." And so on, and so forth. Full of laughs, huh? There's a lot more.

One time we were in T.J. Lots of laugh there! We had gone because I was going to see Juan about adding some music to my songs. They dropped me off at the cafe and went I don't know where, but by the time they picked me up Luz was cracking up at Rafa's bird calls! The bird man, haha. &If you knew Rafa, he was always making his bird calls. After that we went to Tacos Del Gordo. Y viene el mesero con el orden equivocado. He was about to go exchange the tacos, but Rafa told him he'd eat them. The waiter was like, "No, it's alright, I'll change them." Rafa still wanted to eat them... Well, duhh. That was the first time I've ever heard him say, "Stop yo bickerin' nigga!" It was the most hilarious thing in the world! The look on the waiter's face... And that became Rafa's new phrase. On the way back crossing the border too, Rafa pulled out his mica and they did not believe it was him at first. There's teenager Rafa, long haired and skinny, and adult Rafa. It gave the border patrol something to laugh about too!

My last memory of Rafa, not my only one obviously, there's a whole lot more. But my last memory of him was at the family reunion. As always Ana and me sang for the crowd, very small crowd. I sang the first half of "Vestido Blanco." I had given my little introduction, this song I wrote inspired by my cousin Adriana. Its her song, basically. &I finished singing, walked of, and he went, "Hey! Why'd you write that song for her?" "Um, I don't know. Because it's about her?" "Ooh. Well, you should write a song for me!" The one thing I loved about Rafa is that he was always encouraging me to sing. "Miss American Idol" was his nickname for me. I hated it so much! But hey, I was happy he was there.

When Rafa died, it was the worst feeling in the world. I could feel it in my chest. I never believed in heartbreak being an actually heartbreak, pain included. But it was. I guess we all felt it, and probably still do feel it whenever he comes to mind. At least a couple hundred times a day, haha. Everyone talked about the good things he brought to our lives. A smile here and there, a bunch of laughs. I know he always had me laughing. It's hard to understand why these kinds of things happen, especially to the young. After all, he was only 35. The first of the cousins. I love my cousins! Every single one of them! So I wrote this song, inspired by Rafa, for the cousins.

"Said I should write a song for you, but I never found the inspiration to. Even now that you have left us, all that I have left is... Would you please be the angel watching over me? Reminding me what family was. You're what I think of Family Love."

Te Extraño, Rafa!